


Poetry of the Soul

by softazelma



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-27
Updated: 2015-11-24
Packaged: 2018-04-28 09:16:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5086318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softazelma/pseuds/softazelma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thorin takes his nephews, Fili and Kili, out for a bit of an adventure, when they come across one Bilbo Baggins, who is a pretty interesting guy.</p><p>OR -- Thorin is an awkward dweeb and Dis is actually the best.</p><p>(Abandoned -- I'll probably delete it eventually)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Thorin’s phone buzzed in his back pocket. He had taken Fili and Kili on an outing -- it was a weekend, and his sister was stressed out and snippy -- and they were heading down to the rose garden down the street. The boys were frolicking along the sidewalk, the way little children do; running up ahead of Thorin and climbing along the decorative brick walls.

 

**Brother dearest, are my children dead?**

From Dis, 5:47 PM

 

**We’re walking along Park Avenue, no need to worry. They did have ice cream, though.**

To Dis, 5:48 PM

 

**Good. They’ll sleep tonight.**

From Dis, 5:48 PM

 

**That bad, is it? Did you take anything for your headache?**

To Dis, 5:50 PM

 

**Stop nagging, I’m fine.**

From Dis, 5:51 PM

 

**Alright, alright. Enjoy your free time, we’ll be home within the hour.**

To Dis, 5:52 PM

 

**Don’t be afraid to take your time :)**

From Dis, 5:53 PM

 

A small smile graced Thorin’s face. He looked up from his phone and realized that Fili and Kili were no longer there in front of him. Where could they possibly had gone now? He looked around, growing frantic, for the rowdy little elementary school-aged boys, before seeing a tufty yellow head bobbing up and down just a block away. Thorin picked up his pace and hurried himself over.

 

As he got closer, he saw the whole scene: standing in front of a folding table with a typewriter set on it that stood just in front of a bench, Fili was chirping excitedly about something or other, just like usual, with Kili sitting on the bench, listening. And sitting behind the table was a man -- and what a man he was, more like an angel than a mere man! Golden hair curled around his ears, and freckles dusted his cheeks and button nose. He was laughing at something, and his eyes glittered -- then Thorin shook his head almost imperceptibly. This was not the time for such observations!

 

“Hello! I’m sorry for these two,” he apologized as he reached the table. “They kind of...got away from me”

 

The man turned to look at him with those beautiful aquamarine eyes -- and laughed, “No, no, it’s perfectly fine! They ran right up to me asking about my poems.”

 

Thorin’s gaze drifted down to rest on a poster hanging from the edge of the table, proclaiming: “Poems! Pick a topic, get a poem!”

 

“You’re a poet?”

 

“No, I’m a scientist,” the man deadpanned. “My name is Bilbo Baggins, by the way. And you are?”

 

“Thorin,” he said too quickly. His cheeks growing warm, he waited a beat before asking, “Can I get a poem?”

 

“Yeah, sure! What about?”

 

Thorin stopped. He hadn’t thought about that. Oh no. “How about the stars?” He’d always loved the night sky, so why not?

 

“Ooh, this’ll be fun!” The man grinned. “When I was younger, my family lived in that in-between place between the country and the suburbs, and we had a decent view of the night sky there. Unfortunately for you little guys,” he added to the boys, “light pollution is a thing, and it’s terrible.”

 

Thorin chuckled.

 

“Here, while I’m thinking, why don’t you sit down?” asked Bilbo.

 

“Thanks,” Thorin smiled. “So, just out of curiosity, why do you do this? What’s it all for?”

 

Bilbo sat there for a moment. “Well, Saturdays I have off -- I’m an English professor down at Rollins, you see, no class on Saturdays -- and I enjoy writing poetry. Why not?” He looked over at Thorin. “Now it’s my turn for a question. Are those two little ones yours?”

 

“Nah, they’re my sister’s. She wasn’t having too great a day, so I took the boys out to let her relax.”

 

“You’re a great brother, then.” A beat. “Hang on, I’ve got an idea!” He began tapping away at the little typewriter as quickly as you can type with a typewriter -- which isn’t too fast, by the way; it’s quite annoying.

 

They sat in silence for quite a bit -- Thorin could hear the boys playing in the grass a couple of yards away, so he wasn’t worried that they’d break something, or die; the chirping of birds in the trees around them, and the people walking along the sidewalk, and the clacking of the typewriter keys were actually fairly noisy, but the silence between the two men felt like a blanket between them and the birds, or the people, or the typewriter keys clacking away.

 

Nearly ten minutes must have passed before Bilbo sighed, “Finally!” and pulled the sheet of paper out of the typewriter. “Alright, I’m done. Let me just… sign it really quickly… okay, there!” He said. “Would it be alright if I recited it to you?”

 

Thorin turned. “Yeah, sure.”

 

Bilbo smiled -- and it seemed as though his face were glowing, his robin-egg-blue eyes lit up like a Christmas tree -- and began to recite. “The Stars, for Thorin.

 

“Children playing in the starlight

Their hair blue in the moonlight

Dancing in the glistening, dewy grass;

 

“And the fireflies dance along with them,

Stars of the earth, heavenly insects

Teaching them to love the night.

 

“Children sleeping in the starlight

Snoring softly as the fireflies

Dance all around them.

 

“Children waking at the dawning sun,

Asking the setting, fading moon:

When I am old, will I still love the night?”

 

Thorin sat on the bench, staring at this beautiful man incredulously. It was a moment before he found his words again; “That was beautiful,” he said, finally.

 

Bilbo, looking at his lap, smiled softly. “Thanks, it means a lot. Here,” he handed the paper to Thorin, “that’s your poem.”

 

Thorin took it, and his fingers brushed against the small, thin ones on Bilbo’s hand. “Thank you. I hope you have a wonderful day.”

 

“You too.”

 

Thorin hesitantly got up to leave, when Bilbo added, “By the way, I’m here every Saturday evening. In case, I don’t know, you happen to want another poem.”

 

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

The boys stayed out for a solid hour after that, playing in the garden and picking rose bouquets for Dis; the sky was a lovely shade of pink in the west by the time Thorin checked his watch and saw how late it had gotten. “C’mon boys, your mom is expecting us home.”

 

**Hey, we’re on our way home. Sorry for being late.**

To Dis, 7:27 PM

 

**No, it’s perfectly fine. I just finished watching The Princess Bride, so you’re not late at all.**

From Dis, 7:29 PM

 

**Don’t you have it memorized by now?**

To Dis, 7:30 PM

 

**Are you quoting Heathers at me?**

From Dis, 7:30 PM

 

**You didn’t answer the question.**

To Dis, 7:31 PM

 

**Neither did you. But anyway, did you three have fun?**

From Dis, 7:32 PM

 

**Definitely. Kili might have picked a bouquet to cheer you up, so have a vase prepared. And there was this guy sitting out on the sidewalk writing poems for anyone who asked.**

To Dis, 7:33 PM

 

**Did you get one? More importantly, was he cute?**

From Dis, 7:33 PM

 

**Yes.**

To Dis, 7:35 PM

 

**Shall I assume that “yes” is for both questions?**

From Dis, 7:35 PM

 

**Assume what you will, I can’t change your mind.**

To Dis, 7:36 PM

 

**Wow, what a grump, honestly. I shouldn’t be texting you while you’re driving, though, so I’ll talk to you later.**

From Dis, 7:37 PM  
  


**Dis has never been the responsible one, who are you and where is my sister?**

To Dis, 7:38 PM

 

**Oh, shut up.**

From Dis, 7:38 PM

 

Thorin smiled. They were just turning onto the main road, when he asked, “Hey, do any of you boys want to see the poem that Mister Baggins wrote for me?”

 

“I do!” shouted Fili.

 

“Okay, not so loud, buddy,” chuckled Thorin as he passed the paper back to his nephew.

 

“Cool! Can I read it out loud?”

 

“I don’t see why not -- just don’t talk too loudly!”

 

He stumbled across a few words -- halfway through, he stopped to ask, “What’s a firefly?” -- but altogether, Fili made good work of reading the poem.

 

“Yay!” said Kili, who wasn’t yet in Kindergarten.

 

“By Bilbo Boggins, six-twenty-fifteen -- Uncle, what does that mean?”

 

“That’s the date.”

 

“But today is June twentieth?”

 

“June is the sixth month, and today is the twentieth day in June.”

 

“Oh! Then what are these numbers down here? Four-oh-seven, two-two-one, seven-six-seven-five? What’s that?”

 

Thorin’s eyebrows knit together. He hadn’t seen that before -- well, he hadn’t been looking at the bottom-left corner, where the signature was, so who could blame him? -- but that sounded like… “A phone number.” His cheeks turned bright red -- the sunlight streamed through the car windows as the sun set, washing everything in golden light. It was beautiful.

 

“Mister Boggins wrote his phone number on your poem? Why?”

 

Thorin blushed a deeper red. “Well, I don’t know.”

 

The two children chattered in the back seat all the way home, and Thorin was left to wonder. Obviously, Bilbo left his number on that poem -- but for what reason? Was it because he found Thorin attractive? Was he interested in him? Or was Thorin reading too far into it? After all, he was undeniably smitten by Mister Baggins’s charming blue eyes and golden curls. Was it just his hopefulness getting in the way?

 

Thorin honest-to-god wanted to smack his head on the steering wheel. There was a reason, after all, that he tended to stay out of romance!

 

 

* * *

 

 

When he pulled into Dis’s driveway, the sun was down and the boys were fast asleep in the backseat. Rather than wake them up, Thorin left the car on and went to knock on the door.

 

Dis opened the door, wearing a pair of blue pajama pants and a loose tee-shirt on her short, stocky frame. “Where are the boys?” she asked while pulling her long, black-brown curls into a bun.

 

“Both asleep in the car. I didn’t want to wake them, thought you might appreciate the quiet. You get Kili and I’ll get Fili?”

 

She nodded, her bun bobbing on the back of her head, and stepped outside, keeping the door cracked behind her. The two went out to the car and brought in the boys. “So,” Dis murmured, “they had fun, then?”

 

“Yep,” Thorin replied. “We went to the park down on Park Avenue, got ice cream, and then walked down to the rose garden… hey, do you want to read the poem?”

 

“So you did get one, then? Alright, give it to me after I’ve gotten the boys tucked in.”

 

“Fair enough.”

 

A few minutes later, Dis sat down next to him on the couch. “So,” she said, in a sing-song voice, “where is it?”

 

Thorin picked it up off the coffee table -- it was covered in picture books and drawings made by the boys, which accounted for why Dis did not see it -- and handed it to her nervously. “Here you go.”

 

Her dark brown eyes scanned the page, and she commented, “This isn’t half bad, you know…” she trailed off as she reached the bottom corner. “Is that a phone number?” She grinned.

 

“Of course not!” said Thorin, almost too quickly, as he snatched the paper from her hands. “Shut up!”

 

“Aww, looks like my big brother is finally found himself a boyfriend! Wait ‘til I tell Frerin!”

 

“Please don’t tell Frerin, he’ll tell everyone within a five-mile radius.”

 

“Point taken. I’ll make sure to tell him that it’s a secret that needs to stay a secret.”

 

“Promise me you won’t give him Bilbo’s phone number?”

 

She raised her pinky. “I, Dis Durin, solemnly promise that I will not give our brother Frerin this sexy poet’s phone number.”

 

“How do you know he’s sexy if you’ve never seen him?”

 

“Oh, just shake my goddamn pinky.” They linked pinkies and gave their hands a good, solid shake.

 

“Alright. Well, it’s getting late, and I need my beauty sleep, so you’d better skedaddle, unless you’d like to sleep on the couch tonight.”

 

“I’m going, I’m going…”

 

Thorin grabbed his stuff and was nearly out the door when Dis said, “Hey, Thorin?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“You should call him,” she told him sincerely.

  
“I’ll think about it,” said Thorin, and then he closed the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Please comment if you liked it!
> 
> If anyone wants me to, I might write more chapters to this; however, it was originally supposed to be pretty short, so I won't unless there's a demand for it.
> 
> (By the way, all of the places in this story are actual real places in central Florida! There's even a real live poetry guy, but his name is Paul, and he's a college student.)
> 
> [Edit as of 10/28/15]
> 
> Thank you so much for all of the positive feedback!! I'm in the middle of tech week for a play right now -- I've been writing when I have free time, and I don't really have any as of two days ago -- and then next week is show week, then the week after THAT is yet another tech week... so I'll see what I can do in terms of another chapter, but it might be a while!!! OR it might be just a bit. Again, I'll see what I can do ;))
> 
> I also bolded all of the text messages, because for some reason, it didn't transfer over when I posted it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second chapter, here we go! It's a bit shorter than the first by about 500 words, but I couldn't find a way to make it longer without making it too long -- not that any of you would probably complain, but I wanted to publish this ASAP for you guys! Also, writing from Bilbo's POV is harder for me. 
> 
> I'm thinking about drawing a cover image for it, and I'll let you know in the notes somewhere if I ever do. Plus, for more behind-the-scenes commentary or if you'd just like to get to know me, you can follow my tumblr (softazelma) or for my art, check out my art blog (distorsio2)!!

For the seventh time that evening, Bilbo went to check his phone. No messages. What? He rested his head in his hands. Was it wrong of him to write those ten insignificant -- yet so very, very significant -- digits, just below his signature?

 

He’d checked all the bases he could think of; a thirty-something man walking around with two little boys, neither any older than eight, could be any number of things. No ring on his finger, so he wasn’t married. The boys were his nephews, according to him. But what if he was taken anyway? What if he had a significant other? Would Bilbo be the recipient of several long, angry texts later on from said significant other? He shuddered -- God, he hoped not!

 

It became very obvious to him that he wasn’t going to get any work done. He checked his phone one more time -- still no messages -- before dialling in a familiar number, dialled so often that Bilbo didn’t even need to look at the screen as he dialled. The phone began to ring, and Bilbo glanced at the clock to his right -- it was only five past 8:00, she should be awake. On the fourth ring, a voice answered; “Bilbo? Is everything alright?”

 

“Yes, Prim,” replied Bilbo, smiling faintly, “I’m fine.”

 

“Oh thank goodness. I was worried!” exclaimed Prim. “You never call late like this, or at least, not unless you’ve got a good reason to.”

 

“Yes, well. I might need your help.”

 

She sighed. “I’m getting out the thesaurus right now -- you really need to invest in one for yourself!”

 

“No, no!” Bilbo protested, “It’s not about that! Besides, I got a thesaurus.”

 

“You did? Aw, you’re no fun! I liked teasing you about getting one.”

 

“You’re honestly such a hypocrite.”

 

“You know it!”

 

“Yeah, well,” Bilbo cleared his throat, “ah… Prim, you know how I sit outside on the sidewalk and write poems for people, sometimes?”

 

“...Yes?”

 

“Well, I… might have met someone and written my phone number on the bottom of his poem,” he said hurriedly.

 

Prim laughed -- it wasn’t a dainty giggle either, more of a full-out guffaw -- and said, “Of course you did, Bilbo. You never do change, do you? So smooth in the heat of the moment, but once it’s gone, you turn into a bumbling mess.”

 

“Yeah, I suppose so.” A beat passed.

 

“So, tell me… what’s he like?”

 

Bilbo sighed. “Oh, Prim, he was gorgeous.” Prim snickered, and Bilbo shushed her. “He had this black hair, or maybe really really dark brown? See, the difference is that black hair has a blue undertone, and brown hair has a red undertone, but it was just about six, and the sun was at a weird angle, so I couldn’t tell. But anyway, it was kind of wavy and a bit long -- he probably could have pulled it back into a ponytail, but not a bun -- and he had a well-trimmed beard. And he had these eyes that looked like glaciers, I swear to god, and they were so striking in comparison to his hair, and he had really thick eyelashes--”

 

“I get it!” Prim cried out, giggling. “You’re head over heels for this guy you’ve barely spoken to! And you don’t even have his number, you poor thing, you just gave him yours!”

 

Bilbo sighed yet again. He was really quite pitiful, wasn’t he? “Yes, because I’m an idiot. Now, I really have to get this work done -- I just wanted to, I dunno, rant at someone. It’s awfully frustrating.”

 

“Yeah, I gotcha. Plus, I need to sleep. I’ve got a date with Drogo tomorrow afternoon -- we’re seeing a movie -- and I don’t want to be running on coffee, thank you very much!”

 

“You two have fun, I’ll talk to you later.”

 

“Alright, bye!”

 

“Bye.”

 

Prim hung up, and the line went silent. Pulling the phone away from his ear, Bilbo checked one last time for any messages. None. What was he expecting?

 

He sighed and checked the time again -- 8:12. He winced, glancing at the stack of reports he had to grade, and decided to call it a night. Maybe Thorin would text him later tonight. It would be nice, he decided, to wake up and see a text from him.

 

He padded softly across the floor in his little apartment, plugged his phone into the charger at the foot of his bed, put it on silent, and went to sleep.

 

 

* * *

 

 

It must have been nearly 8:30 by the time Thorin got home -- he’d stopped at Walgreens to pick up a few things -- and he was exhausted. He laid the plastic shopping bag on the floor in his bedroom and went to put everything else away. Phone on the charger, check; wallet on his dresser, check; keys on the hook out by the door, check; and then, there was the poem.

 

He read it over again in his head, then again. How was this his life? How did he, who had always been aloof and unapproachable -- much to his own frustration -- have a beautiful man’s phone number given to him? What if it was fake? What if this was God’s way of laughing in his face for fun? He’d never been a very religious person, but he definitely didn’t think of God in a kindly way. He could only hope that, if God was real, that he was kind to those who passed the heavenly gates, while he was cruel to the downtrodden of the earth.

 

It was then that he made a decision. While God might not be kind enough to give him happiness, he could make his own. He picked up the phone and tapped in the ten digits written in Bilbo’s flowery handwriting.

 

The phone went directly to voicemail. “Hello,” the away message began, “you’ve reached the voicemail of Bilbo Baggins. As you might assume, I haven’t answered the phone, so just leave a message and I’ll to my best to get back to you as soon as possible.” Then, the line beeped, and Thorin started his message.

 

“Hey, uh,” he stammered, “it’s Thorin. I met you in the park earlier today? And, um, I guess you left your number on that really awesome poem you wrote for me. Thanks again for that. So yeah.” He sighed. “I guess you’re asleep then. Or something like that. It’s almost a quarter to nine. I shouldn’t have assumed you’d be awake. But yeah. Um. I guess I’ll talk to you whenever you call back. Bye.” He hung up.

  
“Well,” he mumbled to himself, “that was awful. He definitely won’t call back.” He sighed. “Whatever. I’ve lived on my own forever, I can continue on without anyone.” And with that, he plugged his phone into the charger by his desk, put it on silent, and went to bed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked it! I certainly wasn't planning on this taking off the way it has when I first started writing the first chapter!! Please let me know your thoughts; this is the first fic I've ever written for the Hobbit fandom -- but we're not gonna talk about the first first fic I ever wrote -- so please let me know if you liked it!!
> 
> Also: I've been thinking about making Frerin Deaf, because I've had a Deaf Frerin headcanon for ages, but I wanna know y'all's opinions on that. Just another reason for you to comment!
> 
> (By the way -- Thorin, in this fic, looks like a cross between Lin-Manuel Miranda in Hamilton and Richard Armitage. I'd make a face mash, but I'd rather just draw him.)
> 
> [Edit as of 11/8/15]
> 
> THANK YOU GUYS FOR ALL OF THE KIND FEEDBACK AAAAAAAAAA
> 
> I just got out of production week for Romeo and Juliet -- which was a crazy success!!! -- and now I'm going into tech week for Elephant's Graveyard. Then, after THAT, is districts week. 
> 
> So, in short, I'm gonna be busy as all hell. I've started the third chapter, but I've gone back to rewrite the last half, so I wouldn't anticipate getting another chapter until after districts week.
> 
> [Edit as of 11/24/15]
> 
> You probably hate me for having gone without an update for so long! But finally, I actually have time to write, so I'll try my hardest to get an update in by Sunday. Plus, I recently started taking meds for my ADD, so maybe I'll be able to focus for once! (God, I hope so!)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's fairly short, and I'm sorry about that, but I wanted to get something posted as soon as possible. Since I've last updated, I've been in three performances of Romeo and Juliet over one weekend, then right after, I had tech week for another play called Elephant's Graveyard (a one-act play we took to the District Thespian Festival, which is a theatre competition), THEN we had show week for it, which led into Districts, and NOW, three days after Districts ended, I'm finally able to publish something. 
> 
> In case you were wondering, Elephant's Graveyard won Best Prompt Book, Best Stage Crew, Best Supporting Actress (a friend of mine, playing the Hungry Townsperson, got that), AND 1st Place/Critic's Choice!!!! I'm still reeling!!!!!!!! 
> 
> On another note, I've decided against having a Deaf Frerin. This isn't because I'm opposed to having a Deaf character; I've been planning a different AU for quite a while in which Frerin (and about half of the rest of the cast) is Deaf, and I don't want to accidentally transpose that AU's Frerin into this AU. 
> 
> Besides all of that, please enjoy this chapter!

Thorin woke up slowly that Sunday morning. Granted, he always woke up slowly, but it was infinitely more frustrating then. Eventually, he woke up enough to roll out of bed, hair all over the place and sheets tied in a knot around one ankle, and, after untangling himself from his sheets, he went into the kitchenette to make himself some sort of breakfast. 

Distractedly, he drifted towards the fridge to check if he had any milk -- and of course he didn’t. Grabbing a ballpoint pen off the countertop, he wrote “get milk” on the back of his hand, and went to make some toast instead. It was all very normal, this routine. He popped back to the fridge to grab an egg from the carton, and as the toast continued toasting, he cracked it into a plastic cup and turned on the stovetop. He plopped a small pan onto the stove, got out the butter, and waited.

Of course, while he waited, he grabbed his phone; it didn’t take long to do, anyway, and it wasn’t like all hell would break loose in the twenty seconds it would take him to walk there and back. He shoved it into the pocket of his sweatpants, grabbed a hair tie off the dresser, and pulled his hair into a messy ponytail as he walked back; it wouldn’t do to burn anything because he had hair in his face. 

As he went through the motions -- buttering the toast, pouring the egg into the pan, getting out the spatula -- Thorin’s mind wandered. What was that strange, golden-haired man doing just then? Granted, it was a bit early -- just around 7:30 in the morning, likely a bit after -- so he might be asleep, and that isn’t too fun to daydream about. He flipped his egg over with an ease that comes only with practice. Would he be going to church later that day? He didn’t seem to be the type, but who knows? 

Thorin lifted the pan and slid the egg onto the toast as his phone started buzzing in his pocket -- and his heart lurched. Was it him? Was it Bilbo? Quickly, he set the pan down on the opposite side of the stovetop, turned off the heat, and fumbled around his pocket. Not even bothering to check the caller ID, he answered with a stammering, “Hello?”

“Brother dearest, how nice of you to actually answer your phone before nine o’clock! Such a refreshing change of pace.” Dis sounded particularly cheerful, for some odd reason.

Thorin groaned. “Of course it’s you,” he muttered.

“Who did you expect it to be, your boyfriend?” teased Dis. 

Thorin hesitated. “No.”

“Oh really?” He could just hear her cocked eyebrow over the phone.

“God, you’re awful, you know that?”

“Yes, I do, in fact. I was calling to ask if this ‘Bilbo’ fellow had phoned you back.”

“He hasn’t, no. Why didn’t you just text me like a normal person?”

“Am I not allowed to call my brother on the phone for once? My own flesh and blood? Am I not allowed to, on occasion, disdain in the informal insensitivity of texting?”

“Did you burn yourself on the toaster this morning?”

Dis hesitated. “Yes.”

“Not again!” cackled Thorin. “You need to figure out how to get toast out of a toaster without getting hurt.”

“All in good time, brother dearest. Now, you’re coming over for dinner this evening, correct? You didn’t come last week, and Dad was...upset.”

“So I heard. Don’t worry, I’m coming this week. Were the boys alright?”

“Yeah, he wasn’t really yelling so much as he was generally in a bad mood.”

Thorin hummed under his breath. “Alright, I’ll see you later, Dis -- I haven’t gotten to eat my breakfast yet, and it’s probably gone a bit cold, what with all this chat.”

“Gotcha. See you later.” The line went silent, and Thorin took his plate to his tiny dinner table.

 

You might assume that Bilbo would be an early riser; after all, he was a teacher, gardener, and author, and all of those professions usually lend themselves to early risers. However, this was only on weekdays. That Sunday, he finally dragged himself out of bed around 10:00 in the morning and made himself a cup of coffee while he checked his phone. Wait...was that…

“A missed call?” Bilbo wondered aloud, sitting on a little couch in his living room. As he set his mug on the coffee table, he quickly unlocked his phone and opened up his voicemail. He didn’t recognize the number, but it did have the local area code, and he didn’t think that telemarketers called after eight at night, nor did they leave a message. He tapped on the voicemail and put the phone up to his ear.

“Hey, uh,” the voicemail began, “it’s Thorin. I met you in the park earlier today? And, um, I guess you left your number on that really awesome poem you wrote for me. Thanks again for that.” Bilbo blushed. He was fairly accustomed to people enjoying his poetry, but beside Prim, no one had gushed about it before. “So yeah. I guess you’re asleep then. Or something like that. It’s almost a quarter to nine. I shouldn’t have assumed you’d be awake. But yeah. Um. I guess I’ll talk to you whenever you call back. Bye.” 

Bilbo found himself grinning. “I’ll call back after I finish my coffee,” he said to himself. “After all, I don’t want to sound half-asleep if he picks up.”

He set his phone down on the armrest of the little couch, and sipped at his coffee.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know, it's far too short. But either way, feel free to tell me what you did (and didn't) like about it in the comments. If you have any suggestions or questions, let me know. To be honest, there's a very small chance that I'll continue this; I didn't plan it out in the slightest at first, and as a result, I have no idea where this is going. Unless people have ideas, or I get a lot of positive feedback on this chapter, this will be the last chapter. 
> 
> I'm really sorry to everyone following it, but I'd like to focus on the stuff I actually WANT to work on.
> 
> [Edit as of 11/28/15]
> 
> Currently working on a completely different AU, which I've been planning for AGES and will be TEN TIMES BETTER than this, which I wrote on a whim and got insane feedback on for some god-awful reason. Super sorry to everyone who loved it.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Please comment if you liked it!
> 
> If anyone wants me to, I might write more chapters to this; however, it was originally supposed to be pretty short, so I won't unless there's a demand for it. 
> 
> (By the way, all of the places in this story are actual real places in central Florida! There's even a real live poetry guy, but his name is Paul, and he's a college student.)
> 
> [Edit as of 10/28/15]
> 
> Thank you so much for all of the positive feedback!! I'm in the middle of tech week for a play right now -- I've been writing when I have free time, and I don't really have any as of two days ago -- and then next week is show week, then the week after THAT is yet another tech week... so I'll see what I can do in terms of another chapter, but it might be a while!!! OR it might be just a bit. Again, I'll see what I can do ;))
> 
> I also bolded all of the text messages, because for some reason, it didn't transfer over when I posted it.
> 
> [Edit as of 11/24/15]
> 
> You probably hate me for having gone without an update for so long! But finally, I actually have time to write, so I'll try my hardest to get an update in by Sunday. Plus, I recently started taking meds for my ADD, so maybe I'll be able to focus for once! (God, I hope so!)
> 
> Also, for some reason, the notes from the first chapter are appearing underneath the notes for this chapter?? If anyone could tell me why this is happening, that would be wonderful!


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